


The Worlds Which We Create

by wintercealde



Category: Robin Hood (TV)
Genre: Biting, Crossdressing, F/F, Oral Sex, PWP, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-19
Updated: 2012-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-31 10:27:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintercealde/pseuds/wintercealde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meg is grateful to the Nightwatchman for rescuing her, and Marian finds she doesn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worlds Which We Create

**Author's Note:**

> For Slash Fest 2012 at [](http://robinhoodslash.livejournal.com/profile)[**robinhoodslash**](http://robinhoodslash.livejournal.com/). Set pre-series. My first graphic f/f, so concrit welcome!

The first time the Nightwatchman rescues Meg, it is purely by chance. Marian finds her in an alley long after curfew, surrounded by three men at least a head taller than she is with trouble in their eyes. Meg glares at them defiantly, chin out, but Marian knows she doesn't stand a chance.

The men don't see the Nightwatchman coming, and it is only a few heartbeats before Marian has Meg's hand in her own and their footsteps pound over the street, away from the trouble-makers left groaning or unconscious in the dark.

They don't have breath to speak as they run through the darkened city, avoiding the watch that patrols the streets; Marian glances at Meg to find her pale but calm. By the time they are safely back in Meg's room—they have to climb a stack of barrels and teeter along the eaves of three thatched roofs to reach her window—Marian can see in the moonlight that there is color back in Meg's cheeks, a glint in her eye again.

"Are you alright?" she asks, breaking her customary silence. She doesn't think Meg knows her well enough to recognize her voice masked by a rough whisper, especially when accompanied by an apparently male figure.

Meg nods, her face darkening. "I didn't do anything. I was just trying to run away. My father told me I had to marry an odious pig. I will not," she says mutinously. "I'd rather marry someone brave . . . someone like you."

Marian edges back toward the window ledge. "I don't think I'm the sort of person you would want to marry."

"You don't know what I want," Meg says. She crosses the short distance between them, her expression intent. "Thank you, Nightwatchman!" she cries, before throwing her arms around Marian's neck and planting a kiss over her kerchief.

Stunned, it takes Marian a moment to realize that Meg is dangerously close. And that she likes it far more than she should. They pull away at the same moment, Marian in alarm, Meg in surprise.

"You're a woman!"

"Tell no one!" Marian hisses. "Promise me!"

"I swear!" Meg says, and Marian flees.

*

The Nightwatchman rescues Meg for a second time three nights later, this time from a cutpurse who refuses to believe that Meg carries nothing of value. Marian dispatches him quickly, heart sinking at the sight of Meg's triumphant smile.

"You weren't trying to run away again, were you?" Marian asks, the first chance she gets.

"No," Meg replies matter-of-factly.

"You could have gotten hurt." Marian hauls her up on the roof, and it isn't until they are in Meg's room again that Meg gets the chance to answer.

"How else am I supposed to find you?"

"You aren't."

Meg looks at her with a penetrating gaze. "I don't care that you're a woman. I think I like it, actually."

She takes a step closer to where Marian leans against the window, one foot propped up on the sill, ready to leap out at a moment's notice. "I gave you my word that I wouldn't tell anyone, and I'll keep it."

Then, slowly, deliberately, Meg reaches out and pulls down Marian's kerchief. _I should leave_ , Marian thinks, but her curiosity wins out and then Meg is kissing her, her lips soft and curious. And suddenly all Marian wants to do is pull Meg close, slide her fingers through her hair, explore the curves of her body.

 _This is wrong_ , she thinks, and then, _Who would know_? And Meg's lips are wonderfully insistent, her hand already sliding to Marian's waist. _It's just a kiss_ , she thinks, and then reaches out, trailing her hand over Meg's hip, up her back, as Meg leans in to her. Marian flicks her tongue over Meg's lower lip and the other woman opens her mouth with a small moan.

The sound suddenly brings Marian back to the present. This is dangerous, they could be heard, she's standing in the window. Marian pulls away, but her resolve weakens at the sight of Meg's face flushed, her eyes dark with something Marian does not want to admit to herself. "I need to go."

"Did you not like it?"

Marian looks away. "Yes, I—Meg—"

"You're all I've been able to think about, the past few days," Meg says, low in Marian's ear. She knows it's probably infatuation, brought on by being rescued, but a part of herself can't help but enjoy it. The part of herself she's never shared with anyone because she didn't think anyone would understand.

"You're a woman who does what she pleases. You help people. You're amazing."

Marian stands; at the very least they need to move away from the window

"Do you not like me?" Meg asks as Marian brushes past, her voice suddenly small.

" _No_ ," Marian says forcefully, giving into whatever brazen impulse rules her. She doesn't know what this is, but she won't find out by running away. She grabs Meg's hand and pulls her in, and kissing her again is even better this time. Meg presses close, and Marian concentrates on the feeling of the other woman's body against her own, so different from her one experience with intimacy—Robin—yet inspiring that same fire in her belly, that same feeling of fullness between her legs.

She slides a hand up into Meg's hair, the other holding her against her hips. Marian lets Meg untie her kerchief and her cloak, lets her kiss her neck, dart a tongue over her earlobe. Marian slides her hand down, brushing a thumb over the side of Meg's breast, astonished at her boldness, but wanting it, wanting more. Meg makes an encouraging sound in her throat and Marian cups her breast, feeling its weight, its shape. Her nipple is hard and Marian runs a finger over it. Meg groans and presses her hips into Marian's, and Marian feels a pulse of desire between her legs. She pinches Meg's nipple, twisting, pulling gently, and then Meg pushes her tongue into Marian's mouth, kissing her roughly and taking her breath away.

Marian is suddenly aware that Meg's hands are at her waist, tugging at the laces to her trousers. She feels a swoop of anticipation in her belly, but fear, too--her experience runs only to kissing and a few hurried fumblings in an abandoned barn with Robin. "Meg," she protests.

"I want this. Don't you?"

Yes. No. Marian can't find an answer that's simple. But then Meg's fingers slide in under her clothes and she's breathing, "Yes."

Meg drops to her knees, pushing Marian's trousers down off her hips. Marian can feel Meg's breath between her legs, a brush of lips over that part of her that now feels swollen and slick. Meg pushes Marian's legs as wide as they will go with her trousers still around her knees, and then Marian gasps at the feel of a tongue between her legs.

Meg isn't as deft as Marian is when she touches herself, but her tongue is soft, its light touch igniting sparks behind Marian's eyes with every flick. Marian is already so aroused; though she wants it to last longer it is only a few moments before her climax comes with startling force. Meg slows her pace to a halt, then falls back to her heels. Marian squeezes her hand, resting on her hip, in thanks. Then she slumps back against the wall, grateful for the woven hanging to mute her graceless fall.

Meg stands, and Marian is happy to let her press in close and wrap her arms around her waist.

"Where did you learn that?" Marian asks groggily.

"I used to spy on the kitchen maids," Meg says, looking altogether too pleased with herself. She kisses Marian, her lips now carrying what Marian guesses is the taste of herself. Marian flushes, grateful for the dark.

After a few moments, Marian's head is clear enough to reciprocate. She reaches down, drawing up Meg's skirt until she finds the edge and slips her hand under. She feels stocking, garter, then smooth, cool skin. Then curls, and Meg gasps. Marian is torn between impatience and the desire to explore; eventually she gives in to the need for haste. She presses a finger into Meg, between warm folds wet with arousal.

Meg buries her face in Marian's neck, though whether to press close or muffle her cries Marian does not know. She seeks out that spot Meg had so deftly manipulated on her, and Meg lets her know with something between a breath and a moan that she has found it. She starts slow, the way she likes it for herself, first circling, then gently flicking forward and back. She can feel Meg trembling, her hips jerking, and Marian holds her firm with a hand around her waist as she moves her finger faster, faster, until Meg bites her neck hard, and her entire body shudders.

Marian frees her hand and wraps her arm around Meg. "Aren't you glad you stayed?" Meg murmurs, and Marian presses a kiss against her temple. Meg responds with a kiss on Marian's neck, which is still throbbing from Meg's bite. That's going to show for awhile.

After a few minutes Marian extricates herself, and when she drops over the ledge and slides down the thatch of the neighboring roof she is both reluctant and elated.

*

"You have to stop doing this," Marian says, some weeks later, when she has rescued Meg yet again and is now being pulled toward her bed.

"You won't let me come with you," Meg replies, totally unconcerned. "I'm not going to just sit at home and pine for you." She undoes the buttons on Marian's jacket and pushes the leather back over her shoulders and onto the floor.

"Anyway, you like rescuing me. And I like it when you do. You could let me do more of the fighting, though."

"Shh!" Marian warns, but Meg kisses her, interrupting her scolding. Marian retaliates by finding the laces on Meg's dress, loosening first those on the side, then the one in front. The dress gapes, revealing a tantalizing amount of fair skin. Marian runs her fingers along the edge of the dress, following it down to the edge of Meg's shift, teasing the tops of her breasts with a light touch. “And what if something happens to you?”

Meg shivers under her touch. She sits back on the bed and pulls Marian with her until their limbs are tangled, and clothes disarrayed, and Marian is breathless from Meg's kisses. "Your boots," Meg insists, and Marian complies.

"Are you worried for me, or for you?"

Marian pauses at that; she carefully avoided thinking of her trysts with Meg during the day, during the hours when she was prim and proper Lady Marian.

Her attention is called back by Meg's breath on her neck, by her increasingly urgent kisses on all the skin she can reach. Marian has never removed her mask and Meg as never asked--Marian suspects that Meg likes it. Marian likes that.

"I hope it's for you," Meg says.

Marian kicks her last boot off the rest of the way. She turns, finds the edge of Meg's shift, runs her hand up over the other woman's stockings, seeking the tie of her garter. "Just don't get yourself hurt," she says, for she knows what it is to be confined, especially by people who think it's for your own good.

Marian quickly divests Meg of her clothing, spurred on by Meg's enthusiasm. Her body is still new, still delicious, and Marian is eager to explore it again. She regrets the darkness, because she would love to see those places that make Meg moan when she runs her fingers over them, the places she loves to bite and suck and lick.

Marian puts her lips to Meg's nipple, sucking gently, and Meg watches, basking in the attention. Marian palms Meg's other breast, tweaking the nipple between her fingers as she flicks the first with her tongue. Meg writhes beneath her.

Marian kisses her way down the white landscape of Meg's body, hands proceeding her lips, seeking out all the shadowed places she cannot see, all the sensitive spots that will elicit a gasp. This power is one Marian only vaguely knew existed before, one she now delights in. For right now she is the Nightwatchman, and she makes her own rules.

She shifts down to the foot of the bed, spreading Meg's legs so she can settle between them. Marian leans forward, kissing up Meg's thigh, biting the soft flesh to tease. Meg lifts her hips, impatient, and Marian acquiesces. She seeks out Meg's clitoris, swirling her tongue around it, sucking gently, experimenting. There is the danger of discovery, yes, but that only adds spice to her arousal; several nights' worth of stolen pleasure have made them bold.

Marian is painfully aroused and desperate to touch herself, but Meg's pleasure is her first priority. She adjusts her position and Meg sits up on an elbow so she can see. Marian looks back at her as she slides two fingers slowly into Meg. It is satisfaction to see her head drop back in pleasure as Marian works her steadily. Then she puts her tongue back to use. Meg bites her lip to keep from crying out as Marian thrusts faster with her fingers, flicking Meg's clit until she pushes her over the edge.

Meg pulls Marian up into her arms and for a few precious moments Marian gives herself over to Meg's hands, her mouth, her warmth, her closeness. She gives herself up because she has chosen to, because these stolen moments are theirs to do with what they please. 


End file.
